Path of Ranger: Volume 1

by RJ

  “That’s what it is there for,” JB replied. “I’ve seen it once on a soldier’s dog tags. It seemed like a good idea.”

  Gibson smiled.

  “So why so much violence in that ink?”

  “I was younger, I thought I knew better,” JB shrugged. “It took some time for me to start putting sense in them.”

  “The blood stain?”

  “Yeah, like that one.”

  “What does it stand for?”

  “Just a history mark. About four years ago I made a mistake, lots of people died because of it. I lived. When I was running away from the crime scene, a street camera took a picture of me. We extracted those records. A blood stain just like that was on me when I got out from that slaughter.”

  “And the hands prints?”

  “In memory of the two who were with me that night. No one is untouchable.”

  When the sensors were put on, Gibson put a recorder on JB’s belt and fixed the wires with duct tape to his skin. The big guy put on the t-shirt and started limbering up.

  “It’s a cruel world we live in,” Mark added to everything said before.

  “We are cruel creatures, Doc. And the whole world is our twilight zone.”

  “Isn’t that one of the tattoos of yours?” Gibson noted. “What does that one mean?”

  “Whatcha mean?” JB was surprised. “Haven’t you seen the show?”

  JB finished the warm-up so Mark gave him a new task.

  “Get on the bar and do pull ups. Start with twenty, then add five to each round.”

  “Okay, now we play ‘ladder,'” JB smiled.

  “So what’s up with that ‘Twilight Zone’?”

  “I can’t believe that you haven’t heard about it,” JB continued right while doing an exercise. “This is a TV-show, the first generation aired back in nineteen fifty-eight. It’s kinda about that place, another dimension, where people encounter the outgoings of their own being.”

  “You mean, like a dark side of ourselves?”

  “Dark side, light side, anything that is imbalanced. It’s kinda enlightening.”

  The thought seemed still blurry in the scientist’s eyes, but it had some sense in it.

  “And you think that the world is a one big ‘Twilight Zone’?”

  “Ain’t the world, Doc. Our world. It’s personal for everyone. Just people can get there. And a dog… Once…” JB finished the round. “Let’s take me as an example. All I did most of my conscious life was seek power. An endless game of the gangsters. And once I had a chance to take it, I saw a pile of big nothing. After all those times being the on edge of death or getting busted. After all those people who died in the process… Where have I ended? I gained no power, just emptiness. And there was nothing ever after. It is my twilight zone.”

  “Hm… Interesting…”

  “Now, let’s take you,” JB continued. “You live here, cut out from the world, as a prisoner of the consequences of your own work. Here is your twilight zone.”

  Perhaps Doc might even be offended by the conclusions of his patient, considering how little he knew. But something that had been said distracted him.

  “Wait,” Gibson said. JB froze half way into a pull-up. “No, go on exercising.” JB went on. “Los Angeles. The gangster named JB. That’s right, I remember now! It was you, wasn’t it?”

  “What was I?” the mutant asked back. He jumped on the ground after the round.

  “I didn’t recognize you at once. A year ago, the Los Angeles accident. One of the gangs committed a terrorist attack, dispersing a cocaine cloud above the city. One of the suspects was a gang member of the JB gangster guy. It was you!”

  “What? Terrorist attack? That is bullshit!” JB protested. “Those terrorist bitches blow up self-made bombs and shit. They hijack planes and shoot at crowds. Those are terrorist attacks. What happened in LA back then was one asshole misclicked a button on the control panel. That cocaine was supposed to be destroyed in the neutral zone.”

  “How much did it cost?”

  “About eight hundred mill for the batch. Give or take…”

  The mutant had restored his strength. He got back to the bar.

  “Eight hundred million…” Gibson looked shocked. “What kind of criminal are you?”

  “I’ve told you, Doc. There is no way back from the twilight zone.”

  “Stop bullshitting me,” the doctor smirked. “Better tell me what actually happened to you.”

  When another round was finished, JB stepped on solid ground to come close to the scientist. Mark had to look up to see his comrade’s face.

  “Well, fine, Doc. I’m gonna tell you my story. The whole thing, no cuts, no avoiding. And in return you’re gonna tell me about this island and the research that is going on here. Because all that we’ve been doing up to now is treating each other as fools. It’s time for us to cooperate…”

  “You’re not as simple as you seem, right,” Gibson took a fresh look at JB. “Deal.”

  The recorder on JB’s belt beeped indicating the heart rate drop. Doc checked his watch.

  “Go to the bars now. Let’s start with thirty per round.”

  For the eight hours of non-stop training, Doc exhausted his mutant. By that time Jerry told Mark most of his life, they came to the period what interested Gibson the most. When it was time for dinner, JB was narrating about what could be the most important years of his life.

  “So, as you know by now, I was carelessly living on the back side of the gun, waiting for an enemy's bullet to hit me. Life itself didn’t concern me much,” JB was saying while chewing a sandwich.

  “Did it concern you after?”

  The young mutant was having a fourth serving of his meal by that time. The doctor mixed various substances from several plastic bags into one large glass container. He measured the proportions along the way, occasionally tried it on taste, wrinkling out of disgust.

  “It happened few years ago. The Boss was killed. The time came to decide who would be the new king of Los Angeles crime world. Our clan was the largest one, so it had to be me, or Big Dog. I was twenty. And I was greedy, arrogant and very cruel. Then it happened…”

  “That accident that you mentioned?”

  “We were up to a job. Myself, Big Dog, Tyris, and Joalim, the most retarded criminal there was. The job was a piece of cake. A robbery. Some ‘white collars’ in a car. They were researchers or something. We had to steal the wheels and then sell what it carried on the black market. Everything was going fine until one of the eggheads tried to run. I chased him. He wanted to save some suitcase with an injector inside. The rumble started. Short story: in the process, I got injected with that very needle. Till this day, I don’t know what was inside. All I know is that things had changed after.”

  When Mark noticed that JB was out of food, he refilled his thermos with another serving of the pale green liquid which he was cooking.

  “Changed, you say? How changed?”

  “The first three days were the real hell for me. I couldn’t breathe, stand, sit. The dizziness was so hard that I lost consciousness. And the worst part was a headache. I was sure that I was going to die. At some point, I kinda wished for that. Anything to stop the pain. But after a while it passed. And I started seeing things.”

  “What things?”

  “The stuff that I hadn’t noticed before. The connections between objects, events, happenings. Everything surrounded me, began to make sense. It was like an endless motion of ongoing processes, and all of us were like microparticles in it. I dropped the clan. Then the war for the throne started. The clan split. Each newly appeared gang took its piece of territory. The world of crime degraded into madness. The chaos thrived in the city.”

  “And you were staying aside?”

  “When D-Kay’s crew attacked us on the first night, I led my people against them. It was then that I noticed the change in me. I froze before killing the enemy, for the first time in my life. The light of the life seemed so pre
cious to me, I just couldn’t shoot. The next second he fired at me with semi-automatic. I got off easy, with a scratch on the neck,” JB leaned his head to show the scar. “But three of my men, who stayed with me, were killed.”

  JB was telling it like it was happening to him right before his eyes, yet, his face remained emotionless. He snapped back for a second to look around in search of the meal. Gibson handed him a thermos. The mutant took a deep sip.

  “Gross! What is it?” he asked.

  “It’s a nutritionally balanced mix for enhanced muscle growth. The main ingredient is a unique species of local worms, with some other supplements,” Mark explained. “Don’t be such a princess. I’ve tried it. It’s not that bad.”

  “Yeah-yeah… You are saying. I’ve seen you wrinkling from it like Eddie Murphy in every show.”

  Then JB looked inside to make sure that there were no pieces of worms floating inside.

  “Well, still better than McDonald’s,” with that been said he went drinking on to empty the container in one go.

  After the meal had been finished, JB took a glass of water to wash off that disgusting taste.

  “You were telling…” Doc reminded.

  “Oh, right. So, I thought if there was no place for me in my old gang, I had to start the new one. Only, the traditional methods of doing business weren’t acceptable for me anymore. I’d gathered few smart boys to deal with things in a new approach. There were nine of us in the crew’s core. Our activities expanded, it went from small trading commerce to large financial schemes on overseas markets. Then we’ve made a shell gang to cover our real business. It was how we took over Lower Compton.”

  “Lower Compton? Never heard about that,” Gibson noted.

  “I didn’t hear about magic sand with healing abilities either.”

  “Gibsonium isn’t magical! It healed only your life, once. And killed everything else it touched,” Gibson resented. “Let’s stay on topic. So, am I getting it right? You started a legitimate business, but you built a crime business on top of it to appear as a criminal?”

  “Yes!”

  “Why?” Mark’s big brain seemed to be overloaded. “It doesn’t make any sense! Why not stay within the law?”

  “Pff-f-f!” JB laughed. “Doc, you obviously spend too much time in your lab. You should know what is going on out there. These corporations, usually, are much worse than any gangsters. They may steal everything that you have, stab you in the back several times, and you still end up owing them. And all of that is legal.”

  “So, you decided to earn ‘clean’ money, trade it for ‘dirty’ money, and then launder it back into ‘clean’? Isn’t that too expensive a process?”

  “Is there a too big price for freedom?” JB counter argued. “If you are purely clean, each fucking shark out there wants to bite a piece of you. But, when they consider you the meanest monster in the pool, no one comes even close. No politicians, no suits, no any other sneaky bastards. All you’re left to deal with are dumb criminals and the police.”

  “Yet, only an insane person may make money honestly and then show himself as a criminal.”

  “Really? So how does the rap industry work?”

  However insane it did sound, the scientist started to believe in JB’s words.

  “Oh, tell me then. Where did the drugs come from? That batch, which was blown up near Los Angeles?” the doctor wondered.

  “We stocked it,” JB shrugged. “Nobody would believe us if we just claimed to be criminals, they would take us for posers. The drugs import was real. We used to buy it, and stock it in the dungeon. Then we staged the deals on the streets for more realism.”

  “Oh, right. The ‘dungeon’… That basement of yours, that was as big as the neighborhood. Where did that come from again?” Doc gave out another portion of suspicion.

  “I guess it was there… How should I know? I’ve never built it.”

  Taking another minute to think, Mark came to the conclusion that it was too much doubtful information in one day to make his mind up at once. The main advantage of JB’s was that he hadn’t lied once. Gibson appreciated that. Yet, he still had his doubts.

  “Weird story,” the doctor said thoughtfully. “It’s late, you need to rest. Tomorrow is going to be a hard day. The big weight is waiting for you.

  “Hey! You’ve told me nothing about the lab!” JB objected.

  “There’s not much to tell,” Doc said on his way out. “The center was built back in the sixties for sophisticated research in multiple fields. I don’t know a lot about that since most of the intel was classified. One of the directions was developing new breeds of narcotics. I came here six years ago as a genetic researcher. There is a former military camp on the other side of the island. Now it’s taken by ‘farmers.’ Two years ago most of my colleagues were gone. Also, the island is populated with deadly monsters. You know about that…” Mark took a second to check that he didn’t forget anything. “Oh, right. The weather… I have no idea what is wrong with it. It went gray just before your crash. Usually it’s sunny here. And soon a heat season is about to start in the jungle, so we better get off the island, because I can’t take another one!” Doc went through his thoughts again, to be sure that he had said everything. “Yep, that’s it. Good night. I’ll wake you up at six a.m. sharp.”

  Gibson left. JB sat tight at the table, scoping the surface with his hands, trying to find something edible.

  “Well, okay! Nothing wrong with that explanation! It’s all clear now…” the big guy spoke out loud. “Scientists. Farmers. Monsters… And he calls me a lunatic…”

  Later, in the night, JB couldn’t sleep. No matter how hard he tried, the consciousness just wouldn’t go. Gibson’s words stuck in his mind. Even though he hadn’t told much of details about the island, he had told the most important thing – the next step. For all that time being on the island, JB never had a clear view of how would he get out of there. Doc mentioned it, so he most likely had a plan. These thoughts fully loaded mutant’s head.

  About four hours of useless lying in bed passed. JB thought it was time to have a bite to eat. He had never felt such severe hunger, not once in his life. The path to the kitchen was already imprinted in his memory so he could get there without help or vision.

  After getting to the kitchen, the big guy stayed still for a minute, imagining what the place was supposed to look like. He tried to remember where the fridge was. The aim of his desire was a cold milk or juice, or any kind of refreshment. But a huge disappointment waited for him there. The whole fridge was stuffed with the containers full of Gibson’s protein shake. To be sure, JB tried few of them, they all contained the same filth inside. All there left to do was to accept it. He took one of the servings and shut the door.

  Meanwhile, something had changed in the room. Just like a predator, he sensed the presence of another animal around. His motion froze, he swallowed the rest of the drink that he had left in his mouth. The mutant went all ears. There wasn’t much going on, just a slight vibration in the air, someone's breathing, maybe. Being lost in those suspicions, he decided to take off the blindfold. The last time he tried to do so, he almost burned out his eyes. But it supposed to be dark in there, at least he was counting on it.

  While the left hand of his was holding the bottle, the right one carefully took off the bandage. His eyes were so used to be closed and strained, JB had to make a good effort to lift his eyelids. Indeed, it was dark in the room. A sudden flow of tears smudged the picture. Soon, when his vision adjusted, it became clearer. JB saw a dark silhouette standing in front of the bright light source. He blinked some to make the vision close to normal, then the picture fully revealed to him. It was a young woman that stayed in front of the second fridge, on the other side of the kitchen. She leaned down fearfully, getting ready to run. There was a bitten ham in her one hand and a box of orange juice in another. The girl stayed frozen, her full attention was directed at the brute mutant.

  At first, seeing her
silhouette, JB took her for Mia. But then, after taking a better look at her face he noticed that she was much older, about twenty-five or so. She looked neglected: black tangled hair, a filthy face, dirty bare feet and a disturbed expression on her face. It seemed like she had come there to have a night lunch, so JB’s presence was an inconvenience to her. Usually, in such situations, JB would say ‘hello,' but he felt odd doing so.

  “Okay, I’m leaving…” he said very softly.

  On his way out, Bridgers looked back all the time, trying to check out what was in that other fridge. Soon as he got out, he straightened up and marched through the hallway to his bedroom. Drinking that disgusting shake on the go he thought about the doctor.

  “Damn sneaky bastard, you Gibson. Hiding good food from me,” JB mumbled.

  Next morning the doctor came to the patient’s room to wake him up and call for breakfast. But all he found in the room was a carefully folded bed. Being genuinely surprised by such an early rise of his comrade, considering how tiring the day before was, Mark went looking for JB. He checked all the rooms where they had been together before. No mutant was found.

  Just as he took a seat on a bench to think about where his patient might go, Doc heard a knock on the wall from a nearby building. Moreover, it was that exact training center where Gibson planned to continue the work.

  He walked inside to see JB training by himself. The mutant was inside the pit, surrounded by a circle of inductors. A swarm of metal balls chaotically flew inside. Each of the balls was about a size of a volleyball. Bridgers was running, jumping, twisting, and bending any way he was able to, just to avoid the hits. His eyes were covered; his forearms and hands had defenders on them. When there was no way to dodge the ball, JB tried to hit it away. Sometimes those orbs knocked him down, then JB got up right away to keep going.

  The doctor was pleasantly surprised by such persistence from his ward.

  “I see you got how to use this thing!” Mark shouted, trying to over sound the noise of the setting.